Tears of Nightfall
by teawithsilk
Summary: After a raid on Stormwind City goes awry, how will the guild involved deal with the aftermath? Is their leader alive and in the clutches of the Stormwind Assassins or is he dead and gone? Who will take his place? Can love survive between the factions?
1. Chapter 1

I know, I know, I have like 4 stories unfinished. But I can't help it! The plot bunnies! Their attacking! AAA! They made me start this story when the idea popped into my head. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! As always, I appreciate reviews and tips! And I own _nothing! _Well, except all the original characters that I can come up with. If I did own things, Wrathgate would never ever have happened! *cries*

Hoping you all got to 80!

teawithsilk

Chapter One

Stormwind was silent. Everything was drenched in night. As he looked into the canal, he could see himself staring back. His face was tired and dark circles framed his eyes. _He shouldn't be out right now. _The man had served his shift and the alarm seemed faker and falser with every passing minute.

Giles took a deep breath and turned away from his reflection. He hadn't looked like himself since the fall of Capital City. His light brown fringy hair fell lazily into his line of vision as he reluctantly continued along his patrol. There was _no _way the Horde had made their way into Stormwind tonight. The Alliance capital was at peace and maintained the comforting mundane feeling that the city possessed. The white walls were dulled by night, glinting here and there where a flaming torch glowed in its oranges and reds. Giles told himself again that nothing at all could be inside Stormwind that did not belong there.

He walked a few feet, and quickly lost his sense of purpose. Giles let himself lose his alert, commanding stance and rubbed his eyes when sleep started to cloud his mind. The man let the pieces of his armor clatter against each other. Shutters were closed against their windows, doors were securely locked and fastened. Stormwind was mocking him. The city was asleep and peacefully so. He began to doubt if any other guards were up. It could be another prank by the general. Jonathan had been in an odd mood lately.

A brushing sound floated down from the roof of a nearby house. Giles blinked and wheeled around to face the building. _He must be hearing things. _Nothing was there. The roof was completely uniform and deserted, just as it should be. The guard cleared his throat nervously and jogged into Old Town proper. He would head to the keep. He would keep the king safe.

Giles smiled slightly as he entered the ancient section of Stormwind under a white archway. Old Town would be a safe place to cross through. _Even though the _entire_ city was safe, of course. _The red roofs calmed him slightly as he pictured his own home nestled within Old Town. He jogged past a closed weapons shop and looked down a small street that led to a few houses. His heart pounded wildly as he thought he heard a quiet feminine sigh. Giles felt cold sweat pour down his forehead. He knew he was losing it. If he couldn't see the Horde, then they weren't there.

Past raids had been chaotic and wild. The Horde couldn't change from frenzied to invisible in one movement. No one could. A shadow sprinted across the top of a building. Its posture was hunched and its armor was not bulky enough to be plate or mail. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. Giles collapsed against the cold rock wall. _There was something here. _He drew his sword out of his scabbard. The guard flattened himself alongside the building's face. His city needed to be defended.

_No enemy could set foot inside the Alliance's shining capital. _"Come out and face me, heathen," Giles growled.

A woman appeared out of thin air before him. "With pleasure."

With a clatter, his sword dropped out of palm and onto the ground. He blinked a few times and shut his eyes for a few moments. Giles opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

The forsaken rogue eyed him with glowing, golden orbs. She smiled dangerously and ran a gloved finger along the blade of her dagger. "Long time, no see, brother."

"Muriel……Muriel…Darrowshire? How did you escape?"

Deathstalker Muriel Warryn took a long look at her brother. She didn't remember him as being this stupid. The rogue looked down at her grey-purple skin and back at Giles. "Does it look like I escaped, brother?"

Giles creased his brow and threw his head back. _He couldn't kill his own sister. He fought for his lost sister. He lived for the dead Muriel. _"What do I do, Muriel? I can't harm you."

She vanished in front of him. A voice whispered in his ear from behind, "I'm glad. I was dreading a skirmish."

His eyed widened. A white hot pain erupted from where his sister had struck the back of his neck. Giles Warryn of the Stormwind guard was not going to rise anytime soon.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Everything was going exactly as planned. Aelis couldn't help but smile. His guild had breached the defenses of the glorious Stormwind city. And now, as he stood victoriously in a raised passage overlooking the keep, King Varian Wrynn would soon breathe his last breath.

The blood elf drew an arrow from the quiver and positioned himself to shoot it out the narrow, slit window. Once the guard felt threatened enough, they would move the king to a safer location. He fought back the urge to laugh. Wrynn and the visiting Highlord Fordragon would be shot dead. An arrow from the right side of the passage for Wrynn. An arrow on the left side for Fordragon.

Beneath him, the chaos was beginning. A few elite guards opened the doors from the outside, ushering in the king and the advisor. The young Anduin ran behind Varian, clutching his father's shirt. Aelis drew his bow back. From his angle, he could shoot Varian dead. _And he tried. _

A whizzing arrow flew down from Aelis' bow and lodged itself deep into the king's chest. Lord Bolvar had barely registered what happened when an identical arrow hit him in the back.

On the other side of the pass, Muriel had taken off at a sprint. This he knew. The elf looked down each of the sides of the passageway. He heard the footsteps already. _It should take them at least seven minutes to reach his position, more than enough time to escape. _Aelis gritted his teeth and grunted in anger. Either a guard had not been disposed of completely or someone on the inside had ratted them out. Heavy plate footsteps rattled up the steps and Aelis swore. Hiding himself wouldn't do any good at this point.

He felt physically ill as he unsheathed the poison coated dagger. The guild leader of the Tears of Nightfall would rather kill himself than be captured by the enemy. It was how he had risen to his position, and the one before him as well. Aelis breathed deeply and felt cold adrenalin run through his veins. _This was how it ended. _General Marcus Jonathan and a group of armed guards appeared at one end of the hall. Major Mattingly and the Field Marshal appeared at the other.

Aelis laughed at the humans. "You won't take me alive, Alliance dogs." He hesitated for a brief second before plunging his own dagger into his heart.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The thirteen year old boy stared openmouthed at the scene before him. His mighty father laid vulnerable, unconscious, and bleeding a few feet before where he, himself stood. Lord Bolvar was grunting and healing himself already. Sentries were running madly up the stairs to where the arrows had been shot from. A man's screams radiated from the passage above them. It was utter chaos.

A few priests barreled into the small passage. Their white silk robes flew wildly in front of them, and their usually composed manner had been thrown out once they heard the situation. The two male priests seemed about the same age, with snowy uniform hair and trimmed beards. The other priestess, who seemed to be the males' superior, knelt down beside Varian. Her auburn hair was tied back hastily in a bun, and she let her eyes show how deep her heart was by the amount of emotion in them. Anduin had seen the woman before, yet he couldn't remember where.

"Losin, assist the Highlord. Sivian, help me." The priestess summoned the Light to heal the king. Her followers obeyed without hesitation. The man Anduin assumed to Losin gently placed a hand on Bolvar's shoulder and yanked the arrow out. Highlord Fordragon howled in pain, and set his eyes dejectedly on his king.

Seeing that Bolvar was going to be alright, the prince walked carefully over to him. "Is father going to be alright?"

Fordragon looked down at the boy and weakly smiled. He pulled Anduin roughly into his shoulder and led him back into Stormwind keep. "Your father is a strong man, Prince Anduin. If anyone could pull through, it would be him."

The boy took one last look at Varian before the paladin closed the door. His father had not moved at all.

Without a word of explanation, Bolvar sprinted up the stairs. Blood trickled out of the wound on his back, his left shoulder had been torn by the arrow. His arm was nearly limp by his side.

Anduin frowned and headed up the stairwell after the paladin. With each step, he started to dread more and more what he could possibly find. Nearing the top, Anduin paused and leaned against the wall. He balanced on the tips of his toes, his eyes barely reaching above the top step. The prince stayed silent, letting the general and Fordragon deal with this uninterrupted.

"Is he the one that shot Varian?"

The general looked down at the figure and the back up at Bolvar. Anduin squinted to make out the figure. The two men were crouched on the ground on either side of a motionless assassin. Anduin couldn't see the assassin's face, but his legs and lower midriff were visible from his angle. With a growing sense of urgency, Anduin quietly ascended to the top.

To his surprise, his father's assassin was a sin'dorei not one of the Defias who had taken his father away from him in the past. Fordragon was crouched over him with a look of unadulterated hatred. _An emotion Anduin knew him not to possess. _Since the Great Plate Wall of Fordragon was still somewhat blocking his view of the sin'dorei, it was of great shock to Anduin when the elf suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream and as Bolvar pulled his hand back a dagger rested in it. The blade was covered in fresh, crimson blood.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Coris….." A figure jumped through the open window. It melded into the shadows and looked around the room. The mage was gone. He thinned his lips and grabbed a candlestick off of the bed table. "She betrayed us…" In his anger, he whipped the brass candlestick at the wall.

Navilien sat down in the chair at the end of the bed. He had never expected Coris to be the deceiver. The short, intellectual mage was always on time and punctual. She always acquired the information she needed. There was never a time he doubted her credibility. Navilien whispered to himself, "Until now."

The news of Aelin's suicide had spread like wildfire amongst the raiding population of his guild. Muriel had only told him and a few trusted others about Aelis. When he found out who had broken the silence, he would see that they paid.

Lost in his own thought Navilien didn't hear the footsteps behind him. He felt the cold dagger against his neck before he knew there was anyone else there. "Why are you here? What has happened to Aelis?"

He flared his nostrils at the voice. _Coris. _She had been in the room the entire time. "You betrayed us. How long? Months? Weeks?"

"I really don't know what you are speaking of." Coris tilted her head and laughed. "I bet you're the one who sold Aelis out." She pressed the blade ruthlessly into his neck. "Give me one reason not to kill you right now."

Navilien grunted as blood started to trickle down his neck. He had to act quickly or not at all. "One reason?" The rogue turned sharply, twisting himself out from under the dagger. He unsheathed his own blade and pinned Coris against the wall. "There's one reason. You _can't_ kill me."

Coris gasped as Navilien's hold on her wrist tightened. Out of anybody, he should know she was innocent. Navilien glared at her with a nasty gleam in his eye. "Why shouldn't I kill _you_?"

Coris treated him to an equally nasty stare. "You love me."

The rogue instantly released her. "Wha-"

Seizing her chance, Coris punched him hard across the face. She closed her eyes and an icy mist formed around her hands. Chains of ice secured Navilien to the floor. He had still been recovering from Coris' blow. The rogue groaned and tried in vain to move his leather-clad body. "Now, seeing as we both need answers, let's join up." She eyed Navilien, and he stared back at her silently. "You are in no position to argue."

She had said that he loved her. How could she say that? "How can I argue?! I'm frozen!"

"Agreed." Coris set herself beside the rogue. She kicked his knee suddenly to see how strong the bonds were. Coris laughed at his surprise but became solemn almost instantly. "Do we know for a fact that Aelis is dead?"

Navilien sighed. "No. Muriel heard him scream and she knew that's where the Royal Guard was headed. She assumed he took his own life. It's guild rule."

Coris raised her eyebrow. "So if he didn't succeed in fully killing himself, Stormwind presumably is holding him?" She leaned back on the leg of her desk. "A scream and footsteps isn't much to go on."

The rogue's eyes lost all emotion. He had never thought of that possibility. "If my brother is a prisoner of Stormwind, I will do _anything _to free him."

With a flash, Coris freed Navilien of the ice. "You know I am loyal to your cause. If I can be of any help, let me know."

Navilien nodded and propped himself up on his elbows. He gazed at Coris. Without warning, he pulled the human mage into a kiss.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Muriel felt sick for the first time since she had awoken in the crypt. She didn't know if it was possible for undead to be ill, but she was. An orc she had met once or twice was trying his best to comfort her. And honestly, she was close to snapping at him. Aelis was the only one who could make her feel better. Apparently, the rest of the guild had already figured this out. They were keeping at least a few yards away.

"Calm down, Muriel." The orc's deep voice rang out in the silent guild hall. "Aelis wouldn't want you to be like this."

Muriel didn't look up or react in any way. She stayed sitting on the stone wall along the aisle in the abandoned necromancy school. The orc's gruff, raspy voice didn't compare to Aelis' smooth, pleasant one. The forsaken pushed her long, albeit dead and scratchy, brown hair out of her face. Her skin was grey and cold as she strapped her bracers back on and stood suddenly. Without a word, she strode over to the tunnel connecting the guild hall to the Undercity.

"Muriel! Where are you going!?" The orc made a move to follow her but a conscientious priest stopped him.

Muriel would have to speak to her Deathstalkers about Aelis. As she took a necromancy book from a bookshelf, a stone block rose from the floor. "Muri, why are you going to the Undercity?"

Coris and Navilien appeared out of a portal. The mage fished a flask out of her skirts and started to drink. She seemed tired by the spell. "I am sorry, Muriel. There is still hope for your Aelis. No proof of his death was recovered."

Navilien gave Coris a look. _That was not the best thing to say to her. She would only worry. _"We need to discuss things. Come, Muri."

Muriel turned her head to the side to see the pair from the corner of her eye. Sighing, she spun fully to face them. "I have serious business in the Undercity. It will have to wait." The rogue exchanged glances with Navilien and Coris. "I have no claims on the leadership of this guild. I am not suited for it, you know that. Navilien, my vote lies with you." Muriel twisted back towards the tunnel and began the trek to the Undercity.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you had a great holiday!

Chapter Two

As Frenston Galewind of the Stormwind Assassins climbed the tower, he doubted the mage would be there. Horde assassins' guilds didn't get into the city without a person on the inside. And Coris D'Acque was just the woman who could tell him about the Horde underworld of hit men. He knew of her position in the city's politicians and nobility. She was a very important person in Varian's eyes. Ms. D'Acque was Jaina's prize student. She was Theramore's messenger and ambassador to Stormwind. And Coris wasn't bad on the eyes either. One of the king's favorite to look at.

Frenston nearly laughed at his own thoughts. D'Acque and Proudmoore were the most blatant and the most clandestine supporters of the Horde at the same time. Jaina Proudmoore and Warchief Thrall. Coris D'Acque and one of the nameless leaders of the Tears of Nightfall. Fools. How could they think the Stormwind Assassins were kept in the dark?

They didn't believe Frenston, but he would acquire his proof. It would be easy. First he needed to find the mage in question. D'Acque couldn't hide forever. She would be easy to find. Then he could search her lodgings and ask a few questions. _Not hard. _

"Maginor Dumas?" Frenston smiled with a friendly gleam in his eye. "Have you seen Ms. D'Acque recently? I have a message from Theramore for her."

Dumas eyed him wearily. The graying mage laid down the book he had been reading on the table and gently set down the reagent he was holding. Usually, there were no visitors in the Wizard's Sanctum. He was old not stupid. "If Lady Proudmoore had a message for our Coris, she would tell her in person, lad. Now, you either are pulling my old leg or Coris has a little secret."

The rogue took a deep, long breath and tried to compose himself. _This was precisely why he did not work with mages. Always a question. Always a complaint. _And the old man had called him 'lad.' "Maginor Dumas, I am a messenger. I have no information of what may be written on the parchment. Messengers _deliver_ messages not question what the message is."

The mage trainer gave him a toothy grin. "I apologize, but I haven't seen Ms. D'Acque for a few days. She isn't due here for a fortnight."

"Thank you for your efforts." Frenston bowed politely and hurried into the portal and out of the tower. He balled his hands into fists as he strode away angrily. How could the intelligence of Stormwind be so utterly _stupid_?

He walked towards the keep. A certain elf was getting a visit.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As Frenston entered the room, he left his expectations by the door. The assassin was anticipating an uncooperative, belligerent member of a notorious guild. A guild who boldly wore the crest of Scholomance sewn to their right glove. He had thought the captured one would at least be……conscious.

The room was one for a privileged guest. The colors of Stormwind and the Alliance framed everything they could: windows, bed linens, book jackets. Cold, snowy stone was still the building material of choice, it hadn't changed. A thick tapestry of a lion's head with a royal blue background covered the west wall. A heavy mahogany bookshelf leaned against the east wall. Two bed tables rested on either side of the four-poster bed. Frenston sighed. _He had never stayed in a room this opulent. _

To the human, the room's centerpiece was the unconscious rogue lying unmoving in the bed. He possessed the typical elven countenance and nearly white, blond hair. The sin'dorei was topless with a thick Frostweave bandage wrapped tightly around his muscled chest. Frenston wanted to take a look at the wound, but his common sense warned him otherwise. Around the elf's waist, was a black leather belt with a matching black iron buckle. The Stormwind Assassin guessed black was the elf's theme, as his pants and boots were black leather as well.

Frenston spied a pair of gloves, a necklace, rings and a few other trinkets arranged on a chair. Firstly, he picked up the gloves. On one of them was identification of the elf's guild. He scowled at the offending piece of leather. Frenston knew that Tears of Nightfall very well. He had tried to exterminate them many times. _Key word: tried. _

The small crest never ceased to amaze him. They were a group with forsaken in their ranks. Having the seal of Scholomance must offend a good amount of them. The black skull with the green flame. The purple setting with a small book at the shield's tip. There was a woven black circle surrounding the skull that extended to encircle the tip of flames that spilled over the shield's top. He knew the crest wasn't well known. The reason for its adoption as a guild's symbol was nonexistent for Frenston. But it didn't matter. With one of the Tears' own as his prisoner, he could bring the guild down.

Next, Frenston picked up the elf's two rings. One immediately caught his attention: a signet ring. He smiled darkly. Only the leader of a guild would have the signet ring. The assassin turned his head to the unconscious elf. "Oh, if you only knew what was in store for you."

Frenston Galewind continued to examine the guild master. By having seen a male blood elf before, he knew the wounded one before him was breathing shallowly. It wasn't expected for him to do any better after being stabbed in the heart. Frenston creased his brow thinking of how much blood the elf must've lost. _If he stabbed _himself _it is further conviction he is their leader. _

Frenston sat at the end of the bed. His black hair was tied neatly in a ponytail. Blue eyes were smiling. The first finger rogue of the Stormwind Assassins had identified the leader of the Tears of Nightfall. _And there were no worries, the elf wouldn't be escaping under his own power. _All he needed to do now was find Coris.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Ms. Warryn, this a great surprise to all of us." Sharlindra's face was permanently unreadable but her voice was not.

The Dark Lady remained silent for a moment. "Did he succeed in slaying Wrynn?" Her glowing eyes watched Muriel with unfaltering neutrality. She lacked the feelings to mourn.

Muriel bit her lower lip. "I do not know. Word of such a deed would travel quickly. Retaliation would be even quicker, I imagine."

"Did you succeed in slaying Highlord Fordragon?" Sylvanas was impressed. Obviously so. They had gotten into Stormwind City. That was no small feat.

"Unfortunately, my lady, I did not. I only tore some muscles in his left shoulder."

The Dark Lady smiled slightly. "The little things still count. Good work, Muriel. You have carried my name well." Sylvanas did not usually give praise. Her words caused Muriel to smile as well.

Following a few seconds of hush, Muriel spoke. "It has occurred to me that since we have no evidence of Aelis'…death, we cannot be sure that he is truly d-dead." She shut her eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay. "If we can prove he is alive, the Tears of Nightfall will launch a full-scale raid on Stormwind. It will not be stealthed and delicate as the recent one was. Our aim will be to wreak all the havoc and destruction possible on the city. With your permission, I would like to employ the Deathstalkers to join our party."

"As long as they don't come back to me in body bags, you can take as many as you wish."

"Thank you, my lady."

Muriel walked away from the Undercity carrying a mixture of happiness and despair on her shoulders. If the Shattered Hand employed their forces, Stormwind would have no chance in Hell. She scowled at the goblin standing beside her on the platform. "Can the zeppelin be any slower?"

"Are you people always this cranky?" The little green man stared up at her. "It's coming!"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Not many things surprised Tyrande Whispherwind. When the Lady Jaina Proudmoore materialized in front of her, it became one of those few things.

"Tyrande!" The significantly shorter, blonde-haired human exclaimed. Proudmoore wore her usual mask of stoic calm along with her usual purple and gold robes. Nearly immediately, the High Priestess noticed that something wasn't quite right with the mage. "You need to come to Stormwind with me. A heinous crime has taken place, and the leaders of the Alliance need to lend their support to King Wrynn."

Tyrande let her head fall to the side slightly. "What kind of crime?"

Jaina thinned her lips. She looked at Tyrande's guarding sentinels suspiciously and leant towards her to whisper in her ear. "A Horde assassin has grievously injured Varian." Jaina crestfallenly paused. "Even his priests and paladins may not be able to save him. The prince is not himself, either. Anduin is very distraught. Not even Bolvar can console him."

Tyrande saw the sadness seep into Jaina's eyes. Violence between the factions was one of the mage's greatest hatreds. "Do they have the assassin?"

"Yes. A blood elf." Lady Proudmoore began to cast. "We should leave now."

Nodding, Tyrande stared into the portal: a panoramic image of Stormwind. She stepped inside the portal, and was blinded for a brief second. When her eyes readjusted, Tyrande realized where Jaina had taken her.

Calmly, she pulled the sleeves of her robe down. _She had not expected to be taken to Varian directly. _The leader of the Kaldorei had anticipated a meeting with a high ranking human official or even Wrynn's boy. Her glowing eyes fell upon the caramel wood of the door uncertainly.

"Would you like to see him, Tyrande?" Jaina stood beside her.

_Like there was a choice. _"I would." Tyrande gave the stark, white wall her attention. The priestess found it hard to focus on the task at hand. "Is he lucid?"

"No!" Two small figures burst from the room. The High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque frowned. "The King is not even conscious."

A deep, kind voice bellowed out from the other man. "Poor Varian. We must avenge the lad, ladies. He isn't looking too good." Magni placed a thoughtful hand on his chin and stroked his beard. "The two of us are heading back to Ironforge."

The King of the Gnomes nodded. "I trust you will contact us if anything occurs."

Jaina smiled as warmly as she could. "I will." Tyrande smiled at the two men as they walked off. She did _not _want to have to see the incapacitated king of Stormwind.

The mage sensed this. "Let us just talk to his healer and visit Anduin." Smiled fading quickly, Jaina nodded at one of the Royal Guards standing at the door. "Bring out Vatarie please."

The man opened the door, and stepped inside the room. He respectfully closed it behind him. Only a glimpse of a canopied bed was visible to the two women. After a few seconds, a red-haired; white-robed priestess stepped outside. She looked at Jaina and Tyrande, bowing slowly. "You asked for me, Lady Proudmoore."

"How is King Varian faring?"

Vatarie lightly creased her brow. _How could she phrase this? _Every time she tried to heal Wrynn, the poison from the arrow would worsen his condition. All of her efforts were cancelled out by the lasting effects of the poison. If she left the king alone for an hour, the blasted poison would kill him. "He is as well as can be expected." _How could she lie to two leaders of the Alliance? _

Being typical Jaina, she knew that the priestess was lying. Her years had added up to wisdom. "How is Varian _really_?"

"The assassin's poison is killing him. I don't know how much longer I can keep healing him. The Light is becoming harder and harder to capture. Quickly, I am running out of mana." Vatarie weakly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her pierced ear. As hair fell into her eyes, she realized how much of a mess she must look. With an ungloved hand, she reached back to fix her bun. The priestess' eyes snapped up to Lady Proudmoore and the High Priestess. _Why hadn't they said anything? _

The pair was staring blankly at their feet. Jaina's eye looked teary as she spoke. "Will he live?"

Saying the words never had been this hard. Vatarie couldn't bring herself to confirm the fears of almost every member of the Alliance. She couldn't give up on Varian. _Even if the Light wanted to take him away, already. _"I will make sure he lives. Excuse me."

Vatarie turned sharply and rushed back into Varian's chamber.

Tyrande's mind was having trouble registering what the priestess had told her. Even though the human had said Varian would live, she doubted her words. "May you take me back to Darnassus, Lady Proudmoore?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Coris shook her head at the man. _He could be so unreasonable. _"I was _out_! How many ways can I phrase it?! I was given a quest by Lady Proudmoore. I brought myself to Theramore; I stayed there through the night. No one was allowed to travel to Stormwind after word reached about the Horde."

Submitting, Hieniir turned his head to the side, looking away from Coris. "I was worried about you." The draenei sighed and stood against the wall in Coris' Stormwind home. "I came from the Exodar to see you last night. Your bedroom had signs of a scuffle. The candlestick was on the _other side _of the room. Your bed table was on the _ground_. I freaked out, Coris!"

The human mage took a sip of water. "Jaina appeared out of nowhere. She scared me." Coris strolled over to Hieniir and leaned against him, her head on his chest. "Because I'm me, I fell. The table was a casualty of that fall." She felt the draenei's chest shake as he laughed. "You were worried about me, aye?"

Hieniir looked down at her. "Well, you are my best friend. And Stormwind _was _virtually impregnable."

Coris buried her face in his shoulder and murmured, "Just friends?"

"No." The draenei grinned. His lips met hers. "Maybe a tiny bit more than 'just friends."

Coris was smiling on the outside as she looked down at the ring Hieniir had given her. Inwardly, she felt horrible. She let Navilien kiss her. What kind of fiancé does that?


End file.
